


Going Easy

by LearnedFoot



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Difference, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Frottage, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:41:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25286266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LearnedFoot/pseuds/LearnedFoot
Summary: What, exactly, was the point of getting his own room if Obie could still barge right in whenever he wanted?
Relationships: Obadiah Stane/Tony Stark
Comments: 13
Kudos: 48
Collections: Battleship 2020, Battleship 2020 - Yellow Team





	Going Easy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miri Cleo (miri_cleo)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miri_cleo/gifts).



> Content warning: The established relationship here is far from balanced, Tony is far too drunk, and Obie gives not a single solitary damn about either of those facts.

Tony was too drunk. The kind of drunk that found him still wearing dress pants and an undershirt as he lay face down in a pillow, groaning at the rattle of an opening lock.

What, exactly, was the point of getting his own room if Obie could still barge right in whenever he wanted? They could save the company money by sharing.

He almost voiced the thought out loud, but nausea got in the way. Somewhere in the back of his mind, his dad lectured him on moderation. He waited for Obie to start the same lecture out loud in the here and now, but instead he was greeted with a deep chuckle.

“Someone had too much fun,” Obie said, coming close enough to pat Tony’s ass condescendingly. How an ass pat could be condescending was a bit of a mystery to Tony, yet here he was, experiencing it. His dick gave a half-hearted twitch and his stomach flipped again. He was the kind of too drunk that made whatever was about to happen sound unappealing. He tried to convey that with another miserable groan.

Obie snorted, a rough, unpleasant sound that was followed by the unmistakable clank of a belt unbuckling. A few seconds later, smooth leather drifted down Tony’s bare arm. He tensed, waiting for a blow that didn’t come.

“None of that tonight,” Obie assured him, sounding amused. “Despite your overindulgence, you did good out there. The investors found you… charming.” His hand returned to Tony’s ass, kneading for a few moments before moving to tug at the waist of his pants. “Very charming, and very attractive.”

Tony lifted his hips, allowing Obie to maneuver his pants down to around his knees. As cold air hit his skin, his dick gave another valiant attempt to get interested in the situation. It didn’t get very far, not even when Obie slipped his hand between his thighs, squeezing him through the thin fabric of his underwear.

He leaned over, beard rubbing against Tony’s neck. “ _I_ found you very attractive tonight.”

Tony flushed at the praise, and managed to mutter something that was almost a coherent, “Thanks, Obie.” He should turn his head, look him in the eye or something. That would be polite. But the idea of facing that much light made him sick, so he kept his face pressed safely into the pillow. Nice and dark.

“You’re normally a little more enthusiastic when I give you a compliment,” Obie chided. Huh. Guess he noticed Tony being rude. “Is my little superstar all worn out?”

Tony nodded, but at the same time, his cock started to pay closer attention. It was the condescension in Obie’s voice that did the trick, which—fucked up, Tony. So fucked up. Part of him hoped Obie somehow wouldn’t notice, but given that his hand was still cupping Tony’s dick, that seemed a bit far-fetched.

“Fine,” Obie replied, squeezing harder. “Because you were such a _good boy_ tonight, I’ll make this easy for you.”

Okay. Now Tony’s cock was _definitely_ interested—just in time for Obie to pull away. Figures.

But it turned out he was only gone long enough to get his own pants down; Tony heard a quick rustle of fabric, then the bed dipped and a weigh settled over the back of his thighs. Obie’s hands returned to his ass yet again, prodding and squeezing, fingers slipping under his briefs to get at his skin.

“Obie,” Tony managed to force out, tilting his head just enough to be heard. He wanted to say he couldn’t, it was too much. Yeah, his body was starting to heat and there was a wet spot forming on his underwear, but his head hurt, he felt ill, he didn’t want—

His tongue was too heavy for all that. He settled on, “Tomorrow?”

Obie laughed again, but at least he stopped touching Tony’s ass. “I told you, I’ll play nice. Just keep these”—he gave Tony’s thighs a smack—“good and tight. You can do that, can’t you, Tony?”

The answer didn’t matter—before Tony could respond, Obie lurched forward, hard length of his dick suddenly warm between Tony’s thighs. Warm, and _wet,_ sliding into place easily. Maybe he’d lubed himself up while he was standing, or maybe he was just that turned on.

That didn’t really matter, either.

With a grunt, Obie lay himself over Tony’s back, hot and solid and fucking _heavy_ , and began to thrust. His hands wrapped around Tony’s wrists, pulling them over his head and pinning him in place; his breath hit his cheek, burning with the sickening sting of alcohol as he panted, “Yeah, that’s it, just lie there. Keep squeezing. Good work.”

Tony shuddered at the praise, aroused despite his discomfort, despite that it was almost hard to breathe, despite that Obie fucking his thighs did not do a god damn thing for him—

His hips rutted forward involuntarily, and Obie groaned.

“There, I knew you’d like it. You always do. You’re so easy, Tony. Such a slut.”

He picked up the pace, and Tony found his own rhythm speeding to match as he rubbed himself on the comforter. At least it was soft. Better than the time Obie fucked him into the hard tile of the kitchen floor, making him mop up his own come afterwards.

He whimpered at the memory. How was he close all of a sudden? When did that happen?

“Do that again,” Obie demanded. Tony wasn’t sure what exactly he meant, but he kept rutting and moaning and that must have been good enough, because Obie’s rhythm got erratic. “Yeah, that’s it. I love those sounds you make, Tony. So needy, so _pathetic_ —”

He came with a growl, spattering warm between Tony’s legs, squeezing his wrists so hard it hurt. And then he collapsed, pinning Tony in place. Tony’s cock throbbed in protest at the sudden lack of movement.

They stayed like that for an agonizing minute, sticky and unpleasant. Then it was over, quickly as it started. Obie rolled away and pulled on his pants, tutting as he observed the scene. Tony couldn’t help himself from starting to rut again, too exhausted, too drunk, to do anything more.

“You’re a mess, Tony,” Obie scolded. “Clean this up before you check out tomorrow. And leave a large tip. The company has a reputation to uphold.”

He left without asking if Tony wanted help getting off. Why would he? He already got what he needed.

That thought pushed Tony over the edge, adding his own come to the mess that was now his to handle.

Yeah, he was definitely too drunk. That was the problem. Way too fucking drunk.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, feedback is loved (including any typos you catch...I wrote a lot in the last few weeks, I imagine there are some.)
> 
> This was originally written for an exchange, and re-dated for author reveals. I'm sorry if you've seen it already.


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